#[ and i think that's a rational thing to say. :) ]

[fumifooms]

Hijoushoku to Gochisou / A Feast of Emergency Rations

Mayonaka no Waltz / Midnight Waltz

Nagabe

[megamindsecretlair]

smut request : reader being so h-word, she wakes Tyrone up in the middle of the night.

A/N: It's okay to say the full word here. Reader woke up HORNY on DEMON TIME.

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, PIV, Fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and female receiving) cursing, use of N word, Dirty talk. Non-inclusive language used. Rough sex, slight Daddy kink.

Summary: You were unable to sleep. No amount of techniques like counting sheep or thinking of the DMV will help. The only thing that will help put you to sleep is waking Tyrone up and letting him do his thing.

Word Count: 3,203k

A/N: This had been sitting long enough and I finally had some time to write it! How did this tag list get so long???? I don't tag ageless blogs. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! Ageless blogs get blocked.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @sageispunk @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @umber-cinders @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @amethyst09 @ciaqui @harmshake @nworbaij @ms-angiealsina @satoruya

You tried. Honestly, you did. And if Tyrone asked you about it later, you’d swear up and down that you tried going to sleep but you just weren’t able to. You thought that if you closed your eyes, you’d be able to convince your brain to go on and relax.

You laid there, staring at the back of your eyelids, trying to dream up any number of made up scenarios. You tried counting sheep, you tried being rational. You tried thinking of boring things like the DMV or waiting in a long line. You thought of your coworking droning on and on about bullshit you didn’t care about.

Nothing worked. And what was worse, your groin was on fire with need. A burning need that made your pussy ache and limbs tingle. You thought something was wrong with you the first couple of times this happened, but by now, you just knew that you were properly addicted to Tyrone’s dick.

He wielded it like a painter with a brush, a writer with a keyboard, or a samurai with a sword. He took that shit seriously. It was incredible. You’d never known someone so dedicated to the craft of sex.

He snored softly next to you. Not loud enough to disturb your sleep, but enough to know that he was beside you and still breathing. You couldn’t see him in the dark. He hated sleeping with any type of light on.

You imagined that you could see his face while sleeping. The delicate lines of his face. His big lips. His wide nose. Imagining his features was just as bad as actually looking at him.

One look from him and you were ready to drop your panties and let him do what he wanted to you. Being his sex object was one of the most freeing experiences ever. And you needed more.

You went to bed on an incredible orgasm, cumming so loud that he covered your mouth with his big hand and let you scream in peace. “Shh, we don’t need them niggas calling the pigs,” he had whispered in your ear while he was still pumping into you. 

You shivered. Fuck, you needed him again. You knew that you needed to wait this out. Or go to the bathroom to shower and handle it yourself. However, your addiction ran deeper than that. It wasn’t satisfied by cheap imitations. Your fingers weren’t big enough or long enough, not like his. Your vibrator wasn’t big enough or powerful enough to get you there. 

You flipped onto your side, holding your breath in the too still room. You snaked your hand across Tyrone’s thick chest. He slipped on briefs and a tank top before you went to bed. Or maybe it was after? You passed out after he filled your pussy with his cum. 

He didn’t move or acknowledge your hand on him. He continued to breathe deeply. You moved your hand lower, playing with the edge of his briefs. You two had talked about waking each other up to head or teasing, but neither one of you had been brave enough to cross that line yet.

You wanted to, desperately. You scooted closer to him, close enough to plant your lips next to his ear. “Baby…” You quietly sang in his ear. You started to tongue the lobe of his ear, softly sucking it into your mouth. Your hand ventured under his briefs, teasing his dick into your hand. 

His snoring stopped for a bear before continuing again. You took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t hate you while you began to stroke him. Just enough to feel you on him. You supposed your biggest fear was that he’d wake up in a panic, swinging his arms at a perceived threat and accidentally hit you. 

You knew it’d tear him up inside and you knew that your circle of family and friends were looking for an excuse for you to get rid of Tyrone. They believed that he was a thug, a gangster, and bad news. Yes, he had tattoos. Yes, he had a teardrop under his right eye. You loved to lick it while you were riding him. 

For his safety, you didn’t want to scare him awake. But the way you were needy at the moment trumped everything. You just wanted him back inside. When he was inside you, the world made sense. You connected to some primal, feminine energy while he was and god, you needed to feel whole again.

“Tyrone,” you said, a bit louder. You gripped the base of his dick, like you knew he liked. You massaged his dick and then moved on to his balls, rubbing the right side. The side that you knew made him twitch and earn you a moan. 

Tyrone’s voice grumbled in the back of his throat. You kissed on his neck and then down his chest. You bit in certain places, only hard enough to pull him from his dreams. Tyrone’s dick twitched in your hand, so you kept going. 

You freed his dick from his briefs, licking your lips. You couldn’t see him. But fuck, you could feel him. And smell that husky musk of him. You wrapped your lips around his thick head, sucking him in and teasing his head.

Tyrone grunted and shifted, flattening out on the bed to give you better access. He didn’t say anything, so you weren’t sure if he was conscious yet. You kept going at the invitation, letting your saliva coat his dick.

Your sucking turned louder and more lewd, sloppily slurping the tip of his dick. “Mf-fuck,” Tyrone grumbled.

You adjusted your head, turning to suck more of him down. All the way to the base. He was so velvet smooth and hard as steel in your mouth. His tip brushed against your cheeks. You flicked your tongue across his tip and he jerked his hips forward.

“Hey baby,” you said around his dick.

“Don’t talk with ya mouth full,” he said. His voice was rough with sleep. Deeper. You nodded on his dick so that he knew you understood and went back to sucking him. 

You fondled his balls while you did so, finding a comfortable rhythm for you. Tyrone jerked his hips, fucking your mouth in unison like he wanted you to take more of him. You obliged, taking him as deep as you were able to without gagging. 

Your pussy throbbed and ached, getting turned on at the prospect of doing a good job. Of pleasing him. His answering grunts and shuttered breathing let you know that he was close. His massive hands gripped your neck, careful of your bonnet and pulled you lower.

You moaned. He answered in kind. “Almost there,” he whispered. You increased your strokes, taking him faster and deeper until he was nearly bottomed out in your mouth. You relaxed your jaw, letting him fuck you how he needed.

“Uhn-fuuuck,” he groaned. His dick pulsed as cum filled your mouth. You swallowed it all down, greedily, tongue darting past your swollen lips to get more of it.

Tyrone’s panting was all that you could hear as you straightened up in bed, wiping the corners of your mouth. 

“Are you okay?” You asked. You got to your knees and scooted forward, rubbing his stomach. Tyrone’s breaths began to even out. You had no warning before Tyrone flipped you onto your stomach.

One minute you were facing him and the next minute, you were pushed onto your stomach while Tyrone positioned himself behind you. He leaned on your back, placing his lips next to your ear. 

“What you doing, waking Daddy up outta his sleep?” He asked. He didn’t sound angry, but still…

“I’m sorry! I need you!” You yelled.

You wiggled your ass for emphasis against his groin. You felt his bulge thicken against the back of your legs and you wiggled again. If he stuck his hand between your legs, he’d see how fucking horny you were. You fell asleep naked, so there was nothing but his briefs preventing you from what you wanted most.

“Oh, you need Daddy’s dick?” He asked. He didn’t move. He didn’t touch you. He continued to place his lips against your ear, licking the shell of your ear and causing a shiver to run down your spine. The sensation ought to be unpleasant, but fuck, it only made you burn more.

“Please,” you whispered. You wished that you could see his face. See what kind of reaction you were going to get. Tyrone liked keeping you on your toes. Not in a mean way. He just wanted you to get used to any surprises from him, which was a wonderful thing. It usually came in the form of unexpected gifts or sex.

Tyrone leaned up and then slapped your ass. The slap rang in the quiet room. Heat bloomed on your ass. “Fuck!” You shivered.

“Didn’t I put you to sleep earlier?” Tyrone asked. He rubbed the spot where he slapped. It was weird that he was able to do way more than you could without light. You needed light for everything. Tyrone was like a damn vampire, he preferred big lights to be off whenever possible. 

“Yes!” You yelled. He slapped your ass again and you pitched forward. Tyrone grabbed your hips and pulled you back into his dick. 

“So you sayin’ I ain’t do my job the first time?” He asked. 

“Wha–” He smacked your ass a handful of times, each one harder than the last. You cried after every one, but the cries soon turned to moans as the sting settled into your skin and spread to your pussy. 

Your pussy throbbed, needing to be filled right this damn second. You wiggled your hips against his dick. “No! I’m sorry–I didn’t mean to say–”

Tyrone chuckled at your attempts to fumble over yourself explaining. You stopped trying and sighed. “You get on my nerves!” You yelled. You tried to move away from him. He kept an iron grip on your hips, chuckling away.

“I get on your nerves? You woke me up for some dick,” he said.

“Not anymore, move!” You said. This was why you didn’t initiate shit. You always felt silly trying to act sexy and desirable. But Tyrone had mentioned that he liked when you made the first move, because it was hard to tell if you truly were in the mood or simply going along for his benefit.

Tyrone didn’t move. He trailed one finger through your wet heat, stilling you instantly. Your bottom lip quivered from that contact alone. “This don’t feel like you want me to move. You sure?” He asked.

He pushed that finger inside you and it was enough to make you arch your back, putting your ass in the air, and spreading yourself for him. That brief flash of hurt was quickly replaced with desire as he finally touched you. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to tease. But fuck! Not everyday you surprise me, baby,” he said. He fucked you with that single finger, listening to all the ways you whimpered and moaned. You felt so fucking good, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more.

“Moreee,” you groaned out. Tyrone only chuckled. He pulled his finger out and swirled your dripping juices around your clit. You moaned, lungs burning with all the heavy breathing you were doing. 

He pushed his finger back inside, fucking you slowly. “Fuuck, please, Tyrone,” you pleaded. You didn’t want nice and steady at the moment.

“Tell me what you need then,” he said. 

“You. I want your dick inside me,” you said.

“I was already inside you. Or do you want more cum down that pretty throat?” He asked. You clenched around his finger and Tyrone groaned.

“You like when I talk nasty, huh?” He asked.

You nodded, realized he couldn’t see you, and then you grunted. “Yes, baby, I love it,” you whimpered. 

“You want more cum down your throat? Or you want me to fill up this sexy ass pussy?” He asked. You clenched around his finger once more, almost unsure which one to pick. You loved having him in your mouth. Loved delivering a tenth of the pleasure he gave you. But you didn’t wake him up just to give him head.

“Fill up my pussy,” you breathed.

“I ain’t hear you,” he said. 

“Fill up my pussy,” you stated again, cheeks starting to burn.

“I must still be sleep. I can’t hear shit,” Tyrone said.

You smiled, despite yourself. You hated him. You loved him. “Fill my pussy up!” You yelled.

“Aight damn, no need to shout. First, you gotta pay for making me cum before you,” he said.

“What! You said we could wake each other up with head!” You yelled.

“Fuck that gotta do with making me cum before you?” He asked. You could hear the smile in his voice. He scooted back, moving the covers off of the bed. He dropped lower, onto his belly, and then pulled your thighs closer to him. 

He nosed his way through your wet folds, using his thumbs to spread you apart. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he moaned. “All wet and dripping for me. Finna eat like a king tonight.”

You whimpered while his lips finally teased your entrance. You cried while his tongue explored your folds, seeking out your clit. You moaned while he began to tongue you down from the back, teasing and licking you. 

Fuck, his tongue needed to be studied. Because with a few simple licks and teases, you were ready to explode. “Let me hear you,” Tyrone said in between licking you. 

You moaned louder, sighing with every pleasurable lick and suckle of his lips. His sucking was loud, ringing in your ears. You gushed more into his mouth and he groaned, slapping your ass in pleasure. 

“Fuck, Tyrone! I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” You came with a loud yell, shaking and twitching while he groaned and continued eating you out. Your sensitive clit rebelled but your brain loved that he kept going. 

When the last shiver left you, Tyrone stopped with a satisfied hum. “Taste so fuckin’ good,” he said. He left sloppy kisses on your ass while he got to his knees. 

He pushed two fingers inside you and you yelled out, swinging one of your hands behind you. Tyrone grabbed your wrist and pinned it to your back. You were using your other arm for precarious balance so you couldn’t risk trying to push him away with that arm. 

“Naw, baby, relax on that shit,” he cooed at you while he continued to drive his fingers inside your wet pussy. You flooded his fingers down to the knuckle, he moved with ease inside of you. 

“Ty-please,” you moaned. 

“This what you wanted right?” He asked.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you moaned. He was right. This was what you wanted. For this burning ache to leave you. This first orgasm took the edge off, but he was driving you right back there the more he pumped his fingers in. 

“I need…your dick…inside of me,” you moaned.

“Oh! Is that what you need?” Tyrone asked, humor lacing every inch of his words. He knew full well what you needed and opted to torture you instead. 

Tyrone withdrew his fingers, licking up your essence. He moaned, and then shifted behind you. He got off of the bed and shifted some more. Then, he fumbled for your hips before yanking you backwards.

You yelped as he positioned himself behind you. You were at the end of the bed, hanging off of the corner. There were precious few inches from your knee sliding off of the bed completely. 

Tyrone stepped closer, grabbed his dick, and ran it through your wet folds. You moaned. “Yesyesyesyesyes,” you moaned as he coated the tip of his dick. Then he pushed forward and your eyes bugged out, screaming for him.

Tyrone groaned, low and deep as he planted himself, balls deep inside. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned. “You always grip this shit so well.” 

Pleasure hummed through your veins. Tyrone moved slowly, getting the rest of his dick well and truly soaking with your essence. He groaned with every deep stroke, with every tortured sigh you gave him. 

He dropped his head down to your neck and licked up the sweat gathered there. He dropped kisses to your back and ear. He leaned one arm down on the bed, close to your head. His other hand gripped your hip while he stroked. 

“I need it harder, baby,” you moaned.

Tyrone stroked harder, hitting a deep spot inside of you that only he could reach. Your eyes crossed and your mouth dropped open. Fuuuck, yess, that was all you needed.

You moaned harder, throwing your ass back to meet his thrusts. “That’s right baby, fight for that shit. Fight for what you need,” he coaxed in your ear.

“Faster?” You moaned.

“You asking or telling me?” He asked.

“Faster!” You yelled out. 

Tyrone chuckled, kissed your shoulder, and then stood back up. He gripped your hips in his hands once more and then started hammering away at your pussy. You screamed, fingers bunching the sheets beneath you. 

“Just like that! Just like that!” You panted.

Tyrone growled, moving in and out of you like he was possessed. It felt as close to heaven as you were going to get. You felt wholly full and feminine and sweet and girly that your brain fritzed out and you were cumming with the violent force of a hurricane. 

Tyrone screamed with you, climaxing at the squeeze of your pussy. He drenched you in his cum. So much pulsed out of him that it started to leak out of you, running down the sides of your legs. 

Tyrone slowed down, still dragging his hips forward like they had a mind of their own. He finally slowed down and your legs shook. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. 

“Thank you, baby. Thank you,” you panted on the bed. You finally felt satiated. That raw, hungry need no longer pressing into your mind and making you feel crazy. You curled up like a kitten when Tyrone slipped out of you.

Tyrone kissed your shoulder and your back. He left the room, finding his way in the dark without issue. He returned with a warm towel, wiping away the worst of the stickiness. You hummed your appreciation.

Tyrone came back to the room and felt for you. “Now, can you let me get some sleep?” He asked you. He lifted you and placed you back in your original spot.

“Yes, Daddy, thank you,” you said, reaching for his cheeks and pulling him into a sweet kiss. He still faintly smelled like you and you grinned against his lips. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you too, baby. Get some sleep,” he said. 

He climbed into the bed with you, sliding his arm under your pillow, and then sidled up against your back. He felt like a personal heated blanket as your back warmed up deliciously. He planted one final kiss to your temple and then you drifted off peacefully into la la land.

I have *many* more Tyrone fics for you to enjoy! The Secret Tyrone Files

[eggthedyke]

Thinking about Deep Space Nine s4ep4 Indiscretion and how it makes you confront Dukats humanity (ironic word to use I know).

But where as before he was always the cartoonish irredeemable villain with no good in his soul this episode makes you see him as someone with the capacity to love, to feel pain, to laugh, to laugh at himself, to relate to Kira, to share common experiences with her, even with something as simple as the ration bars they both used to eat.

But in the end it doesn’t make him a good person. It just makes him a person.

The point isn’t “everyone has good in them deep down”

It’s that all of these people, even the most depraved, even the worst of the war criminal and dictator are still people. And it’s Worse because they’re people.

He isn’t a one demential being. But he still Did all those things, he still enslaved, tortured and killed all those people and despite claiming to love one of them, he has no remorse for it. He still intend to kill his own daughter, but at the same time, he cannot stand the idea of her living a life where she is tormented for her patrilineage. The daughter he’d had the forethought to send away from Bajor and Cardassia so that once the occupation ended they could still live full lives. The daughter who is still less important then his political career. The daughter who he says he will love, weep and mourn even after he takes her to an early grave. The daughter he loves too much to hurt. The daughter he takes home, damn the consequences.

And the fact we know he isn’t an unfeeling being, that he has the capacity for remorse but simply doesn’t feel it in relation to his actions to the Bajorans, makes him that much more of a monster.

But we cannot separate out the monstrous anymore, they feel just the same as us, love the same as us, talk and laugh the same as us. There is no clear line between us and them, no promise that we won’t become, are not, just as monstrous.

[sciderman]

I didn't want to ask about the hospital stuff, but I'm glad to hear you'll be getting treatment!! And I really really hope it goes well and helps you feel better, you deserve a less stressful life, a beautiful life free of the brain bees. My heart is with you!!

thank you so much anon!! i've been doing SO much to quiet the brain bees and it takes so, so much out of my day to keep those brain bees quiet. cannot WAIT to not have an active beehive in my skull.

[genericpuff]

You know what do you think of hanza cancelling her own comic that is the guy upstairs? Like for me,I really really hope she's okay. And I know blacklightjack(he make a video about this) and the line he says about artists need to grow a thicker skin is just. I'm sorry like,look I get what he's saying but hanza have to cancel the comic because of toxic shippers. Sure,you can just ignore them and pretend they don't exist but they will still still still annoy you and h*rass you to the point you can't take it anymore and have to cancel the comic because of the whole goddamn toxic fanbase.

(as a Malaysian myself,I need to say this,I really hope hanza is alright. And in my language saya harap dia dapat bantuan Dan menjaga kesihatan sendiri)

So...

sigh I feel like this isn't the answer or essay you expected but I hope you're open to at least hearing it out all the same.

I do not think Hanza handled the situation in a way that benefitted her as a creator or her audience of people who genuinely love her work.

I DO think she was justified to be pissed off with the people harassing her. Those people suck ass and they're the definition of "this is why we can't have nice things."

But like... the notion of "you need to grow thicker skin" is true in being a creator who puts their work out into the world for an audience. Hear me out, this does NOT mean "creators aren't allowed to have feelings". But it does mean that you have to find peace with the fact that there are gonna be weirdos and assholes who take shit too far within your community. You don't necessarily deserve that. But you can't give those people power over you by going scorched earth in the way that Hanza did, because who does it really benefit? Hanza is now out a job and she's soiled her own reputation with her audience by basically going "FINE, because of these few people who were shit, NO ONE gets to have a good time!" And that's just... not a productive or healthy way to deal with these issues because it's just doing what those trolls and shitheads likely wanted. They wanted a reaction out of her, and she delivered it to them on a silver platter.

Like, I think of the dumbasses complaining about Hanza "taking advantage of the dark romance community" (she didn't, she just made a horror thriller comic that they felt entitled to see romance in) and guess what? Now those dumbasses have power over here because she ended the comic and in their heads, I'm sure they're thinking "good riddance". By choosing to not only end her comic, but spoil it entirely for her fans who were there in good faith, Hanza gave power to the people who weren't even a part of her target audience to begin with.

I do think it's ironic if people assume I'd automatically boo the "grow thicker skin" mantra because like, y'all... many of my complaints here are literally about people like Rachel who behave badly with their audience and desperately needed to grow thicker skin. In a lot of ways she's not even reacting to direct harassers, she's reacting to people simply discussing her comic in their own spaces which aren't mean for her. If she spoiled the ending of LO for her fans and ended the comic prematurely, I would feel awful, but... it still would have been her decision at the end of the day that she'd have to stand by and take responsibility for.

I think, at best, if I were to give her any unsolicited advice, she should have just put the comic on hiatus, taken a break, focused on her mental health and given herself enough distance to ask herself if she wanted to continue TGU. Maybe it still would have ended the same way, but at least she would have given herself the time and space to heal and rationalize her choices.

Instead, by choosing the nuclear option of spoiling the series for her readers and axing the comic - just to backpedal and go back to "no no it's just an indefinite hiatus!" - she gave up her power to the people who were harassing her. She reacted in a way that gave them power over her, not herself over them.

And I say this as someone who's currently on an indefinite hiatus with their main project, which I still have not spoiled for the 5 readers I have, despite the fact that I have zero clue when I'll return or if I'll even be able to. Whether or not Cyra and co. break out of the Reaper Society is now a 2 year old question.

I say this all as someone who has been harassed and is still harassed for doing what I wanna do. My first ever webcomic website when I was like 17 used to get emails and comments from shitty classmates and other local yokels who knew of me and wanted to pick fights over a teenager's dumb lil' gag comics. I kept making those comics anyways for myself and for the people who did like reading them, until I was ready to drop the comic on my own terms and move onto my next project, which would be Reaper. Reaper also got a lot of nonsense complaints and harassment. As did my fanfiction projects, as did my digital art, as did everything that I've ever put out into the world through the Internet, because the Internet just sucks for everyone always and then you die 🤣

And now, 10+ years later, I get the occasional "you're a shitty talentless person who isn't gonna amount to anything and yaddayaddayadda" which, to be fair, is a reaction from the folks who are unhappy with my intentions to make a Lore Olympus rewrite comic!

But I'm not going to give them power over me by stopping. I have a story I want to tell and if I stopped telling that story due to the shitty things they had to say and do, then I would be punishing myself and punishing my audience for the actions of a few bad apples. I do not deserve to have those abusive actions targeted at me (though they surely do and that's on them) and I do not have to put up with it, but I genuinely would not be able to live with myself if I gave them power over me by reacting in such an explosive way that my bloody remains land on everyone around me, including the people who were supportive and loved my work along the way.

That said, I also don't know to what extent Hanza was harassed. I've seen people claim she was doxxed, but have yet to see any evidence of that. I have seen people claim she got death threats, but Hanza hasn't shown anything to back that up. I'm going to assume the best of her that the harassment must have gotten pretty fucking bad for her to want to quit, and again, that is justified, and I cannot in any way use my experiences as a way to diminish hers. Maybe she just flat out isn't interested in making TGU anymore which... I can definitely say I relate to that, too.

There's this sort of mindfulness technique in stress and emotional management where you have to recognize that other people's actions are NOT your responsibility, but your REACTION is, because your reaction is what you can control and have power over.

Rachel Smythe finished LO in spite of what wackjobs like me said (and still say) about her and she has power in that perseverance, power that wackjobs like me cannot and *should* not try to take away from her.

mongie decided Webtoons was not suited for her work and vision and decided to put the comic on hiatus until she could get her distribution rights back and continue Let's Play on another platform. She has power in that decision and integrity, power that Webtoons cannot take away from her.

Whether or not you like my work, whatever opinion you have of it that you're entitled to, I have power in knowing that I started a project that I now love dearly and can take pride in, and has brought closure to people like me who were left disappointed by LO. I have power in that stubbornness and refusal to let other people determine what I'm capable of.

Even if you remove the external influence of the audience from the picture, we all have power as creators that we need to harness and take ownership in.

By going nuclear and spoiling her comic for her audience and ending it entirely, Hanza may have gotten the short term satisfaction of turning the school bus around to go back home, but she still disrespected herself and robbed herself of her own power as a creator which will ultimately stick with her far more than it will the harassers who will inevitably move on to some other target and forget she even existed. And that's a decision that she has to live with.

The harassers got under Hanza's skin and gave her more than enough reason to feel frustrated. But they did not choose to spoil and end the comic. She did. And she is ultimately the only one who will have to live with the consequences of that.

I do hope she's okay and that she's getting the time and space she needs to heal from this. If this truly is the outcome that she feels gives her the most power and the ends justified the means for her, I hope she found strength in it, regardless of the opinions of people like myself that ultimately should not matter to her. I hope the people harassing her get what's coming for them whether it be actually getting called out or just the universe delivering karmic retribution on them. I hope Hanza can find joy and peace again either in TGU or whatever project she pursues next. But most importantly, I hope she finds the confidence and power she needs to stick to her guns and create what she wants to create, unapologetically.

"Growing thicker skin" doesn't mean we as creators have to be comfortable with abuse - it just means we need to do ourselves the honor and favor of making decisions that give ourselves power rather than giving it away to the abusers who do not have to live our lives at the end of it all.

And that is my very big bag of cents on that.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for inkwell; Damian gets a Pocket. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Damian dismisses the foolishness of such thoughts and takes Beloved with him to the closet and into the back of it, closing the door behind him. He kneels before the low little shelf full of “cubbyholes” meant for shoes and slippers, and reaches into the slim space behind it with his free hand. 

As a hiding place, it is so obvious as to be embarrassing. Certainly beneath the use of any assassin worth their salt, and most especially beneath the heir to the Demon’s Head. 

And so that is why Damian uses it–because no one would ever expect that he would use it. Its contents are far too important to keep concealed, that he would leave them anywhere anyone would ever think to search. 

This is where he keeps his actual sketchbook. Not the unopened one Grayson once gifted him or the one Gotham Academy supplied him with that has nothing in it but dutifully-recorded still lifes and dull assignments; the one he actually uses. 

It’s mostly full, now. He’ll need another soon, though the thought is . . . bothersome, slightly. 

He’ll have to destroy and dispose of this one before he can source another. It’s hard enough to keep just one sketchbook hidden, in his father’s manor. His father does not–trust him, still. Does not trust anyone, really, but most especially not him. So of course he must search Damian’s room when he is not present in the manor, to be certain Damian has concealed no contraband or forbidden weapons or poisons or any other tool of his former trade. 

Of Mother’s trade. 

Mother is not allowed in the manor anymore, after all. Not any part of it or any part of her. 

So of course such things would not be allowed either. 

So of course Father would look, to be certain. Damian has never noticed even the slightest disturbance in his things, but–well. He does not presume so much as to assume he would ever notice Father’s touch in a search that Father meant to be kept secret; to avoid arousing suspicion of. 

Of course he would not. 

Damian is not that foolish. 

He sets the sketchbook flat on the floor; reaches down beyond its place behind the shelf. Beloved chirps, curious but quiet. He seems to recognize the need for discretion. 

Good, Damian thinks, and lays his slim pencil bag on top of the sketchbook. He sets Beloved down on his feet beside it, then unzips it and searches inside it for–there, yes. 

Damian keeps his things meticulously orderly, of course. It’s barely a moment’s search before he finds the tiny cotton drawstring bag he keeps his kneaded eraser in. 

He extricates it, then opens it and takes out the eraser. He prefers not to leave the eraser rattling around loose and grimy in among his pencils, but Beloved’s current needs are more immediately relevant than his own. He can source a replacement for the bag later, or simply resume using it once he arranges something proper for Beloved. 

“Here,” he says, holding out the tiny open bag. “For your clothing, Beloved, if you would prefer to continue to carry it. And rations, I suppose. It will be more secure than the jacket’s pockets.” 

Beloved stares at the bag, and then up at him. His eyes seem very large, and Damian finds his reaction somewhat difficult to read, again. 

“I will of course supply you an improved offering as soon as possible,” he says stiffly, still holding the bag out to him. “This is merely a placeholder, for convenience’s sake.” 

[pianokantzart]

In anticipation of Luigi hopefully being in the sequel more, how do you think Luigi would act when he's mad? We've seen Mario; he yells and glares a lot but his insults aren't very strong, like when his big comeback to DK telling him his dad was right to think he's a joke was "go smash stuff, smash monkey!" (Big "why-I-oughta" energy, lol) What do you think Luigi's angry mannerisms would be?

Pffft, "why-I-oughta" energy is a very good description. Mario doesn't have enough meanness in him to actually come up with a good retort on the fly, but he does have enough self-respect to snap back pretty quickly when insulted. The thing is that while Mario has a natural "fight" response to adversity, Luigi leans more toward "flight," and is far more likely to react to things with fear than with anger.

However, if someone does manage to somehow get under Luigi's skin the way DK got under Mario's skin, I see Luigi trying to rationally and calmly speak his mind... key word being trying. Unfortunately, he wears his emotions on his sleeve whether he wants to or not. I imagine when Luigi gets angry he fidgets and stumbles over his words, and while what he says is pretty sound and levelheaded once you parse through the jumbled thoughts and the cracking voice, if you don't have any respect for him to begin with he's not going to win you over any time soon.

[coralpaperthoughts]

I will never understand ppl who hate/anti ANY of the members of the Gaang, or even any of the other kids. coz they are just kids. in the middle of a fucking war. of course they're gonna fuck up and make mistakes and be little shits, THEY ARE 12-16 !! ALL OF THE GAANG (including Zuko but excluding Suki) HAVEN'T HAD PROPER SOCIALISATION WITH OTHER KIDS THEIR AGE UNTIL THEY MET EACH OTHER !!

and yes, you could argue that Katara and Sokka had each other, but that's siblings and siblings are not the same as friends, and also Sokka was the only teen boy left in the tribe and I think Katara was the only teen girl too (might be wrong there tho)

you could also argue that Aang had friends before he got stuck in the iceberg so he did actually have that socialisation, but bro is fucking 12 and he was stuck in an iceberg for a hundred fucking years and had the whole avatar thing weighing down on his shoulders, cut the boy some slack ???

Toph and Zuko were both Rich Noble Kids™ so they automatically did not get proper socialisation with other kids their age. Toph was sheltered from the outside world because she's blind and a young girl, but yes she did go to that underground boxing ring but that was mainly adults, I highly doubt she was hanging about with kids there and definitely not in normal circumstances.

And although Mai and Ty Lee were there, they were Azula's "companions" (not originally meant to be friends but may have ended up as so after the war) and they weren't there for Zuko, they were there for Azula only. I'm pretty sure Zuko spent most of his time with tutors or with his mother before she left, he didn't get any socialisation with normal kids and he definitely did not get a normal childhood.

None of them got a normal childhood, so can you really blame any of them for being manipulative or assholes or doing dumb shit, whilst still being a kid/teen !!! and then being bad parents too, when they literally have no good role model to go off of (love Hakoda but bro was not there for his kids for a good couple of years and that does a lot to a kid)

edit: also Azula deserved a redemption/healing arc because she was a victim of abuse as much as Zuko was. she was in fact just a child, as much as the rest of them were, and deserved better. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk 🙏

edit 2: Jet also deserved a chance at healing. like bro watched his village burn and was the sole survivor, he probably has mega survivor's guilt that isn't touched upon in the show, like his hate for the fire nation is pretty rational and his actions (to an extent) are justified. all I'm saying is that if he had anybody else in his corner, that wasn't more angsty, out-for-revenge teens or kids, he could have had a much nicer life. one that didn't lead him to his downfall.

[sysmedsaresexist]

I spoke with Colin Ross again.

The original post, for those who missed it.

This is going to be really disjointed and rough. I've been put in a really weird position and I want to just... talk about it. This is okay to reblog, I'm sure there's pro/endos that have been waiting for this. Unfortunately, it's going to be attached to a vent.

Sadly, talking to him brought up a lot of bad feelings. I'm still so sad to see so many people turn on me. I'm disappointed that there was so much pushback. I'm disgusted by people's hypocrisy.

People wanted to know why I wasn't posting my side of the emails to Colin Ross, they tried to say he didn't believe those things anymore.

So I emailed him again, recapping our previous conversations, and asking him if he still believed in non traumagenic plurality.

And he responded that he does.

I thought I could post it, and that would be the end of it. Proving we had spoken before, confirming the topics discussed. But in my email to him, I shared what I've been doing since I last spoke with him, what prompted me to reach out to him again. The same thing that stopped me from posting my side of the emails originally. I wasn't entirely honest with him, either. I don't think I would have gotten a response if I had talked about tumblr.

And I'm simultaneously so excited and so scared.

This is a man that, in a very vague sense, formed a mentor/professional relationship with me. Our interaction overall was brief, but it was exciting to discuss his work with him, ask him questions that had been bothering me-- I told him about myself, my educational and work background. I used my real email and name. My real school. He's Canadian, we talked about it. I shared real details of my life, and while it wasn't necessarily in confidence, I don't think he would appreciate knowing that I've shared his personal thoughts and emails on tumblr, of all places. I'm not lying or hiding anything in my side of the conversation.

I'm scared.

I'm terrified to post anything that could be linked to me. Even posting this, I'm like, "can people like... reverse edit my picture and get my email?" I genuinely don't know.

I worry about posting the full screenshots with his email, knowing people won't believe me if I don't, but not wanting to have these ridiculously immature people in his inbox. I have encouraged people since day one to find his email themselves and reach out. I figure that the only people who would put in that work are the people who genuinely want to learn.

But then I realized that there are people that could ruin the relationship I made with him.

People that could make it so that I can never contact him in this way again.

People could use this to find me, if they get Colin Ross talking. (The rational part of my brain says he's smart enough not to give someone else my name, but goddamn, some of you people are actually dangerous)

There are people that want to do that to me. People that hate that I even brought a professional into this conversation. And I get it. I sat on the original conversation for almost three years, remember?

It's really scary to admit you're wrong, that you've been close-minded and hardheaded. It's scary to confront your bias and actions.

But having him respond to me... I feel so lucky? Not that Colin Ross is a saint, but how often do you get to meet someone like him? How often do you have a chance to take advantage of a professional contact that seems willing and happy to have these kinds of conversations with you? Three years later and he remembered me. He took the time to answer me, again.

I don't want to fuck that up.

So I thought about reaching out to certain people, showing them the entire set of emails without any blockout and having them vouch for the authenticity.

Then I realized that I wouldn't trust any of you anti endogenic systems with any of my information after how you've all behaved.

And I realized that none of you are going to change your minds, no matter what I show you, and I'd rather to maintain my professional relationships than put any more effort into any of you.

And I know if I wait too long to post this, people will call it fake, so I either need to go ahead and make this post or just kind of let it disappear into obscurity.

It's so important, though.

Isn't it?

I can't tell anymore.

[aqlstar]

In the context of whatever was going on on @spot-the-antisemitism ‘s inbox- I wrote down some thoughts about Islamophobia and anti-Muslim biases:

I tend to think that attitudes towards Muslims in the West and in West Asia and North Africa should be analyzed separately because they come from such radically different historical experiences and pre-existing power structures.

I therefore understand people that feel frustrated by the term “Islamophobia” because it implies (or may be considered to imply) uncritically that non-Muslim west Asians or North Africans are necessarily subject to the same kind of bias present in, say, some American Christians.

For example, we live in America, but my dad’s side of the family (Assyrian) is generally rather wary of Muslims and afraid of the spread of Islam. By some definitions, this makes them Islamophobic. We do have culturally Muslim Iranian family friends, it just took a little while for us to trust that they were not anti-Semitic or anti-Assyrian and were actually very open to unlearning some of their biases.

It bothers me that their generational trauma response that has unfortunately been proven useful and necessary would be grouped in with ignorance and bigotry that some American Evangelical Christians display when it comes to Islam. (Saying things like all Muslims worship the devil or that they hate Jesus or defending Christian imperialism while condemning Islamic imperialism.)

On the other hand, I support combatting said ignorance and bigotry, whether we call it Islamophobia, xenophobia or just anti-Muslim conspiracy. I don’t really want to die on the hill of word choice.

I also believe, contrary to the opinion of most young leftists, that it isn’t okay to dehumanize people that are part of the historical “oppressor class.” I can see how a very rational generalized wariness of Muslims in a West Asian context could hypothetically be weaponized to promote hatred and violence against Muslims. What word would be used for that phenomenon?

Does anyone have any thoughts, additions, objections, concerns?

*also note that I think a similar distinction needs to be made for the phenomenon of Christian oppression.

In North America? We have Christians whining about not being able to evangelize in public schools and calling it Christian oppression.

In Egypt? Christian oppression means violence against copts, burning churches, and human trafficking.

[theodorenmyth]

THEO NOTT REQUEST<3

I don’t read smut so I would like to request something angst to fluff or just fluff. Maybe something where we are jealous but not in a toxic or overbearing way. Maybe he gets paired up with a past hookup of his in class and we get uncomfortable. But we aren’t weird about it. Thanks! And drink your water babe

A Twinge of Green

Pairings : Theodore Nott x M! Reader Summary : You never imagined Theodore Nott could make you feel this way. Paired with a former flame in class, Theo seems unaffected while your discomfort grows. Navigating your emotions and trying not to be overbearing, you grapple with a jealousy that is unfamiliar but undeniably present. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 900+

You’ve always prided yourself on being rational. Cool-headed, even. It’s why Professor Slughorn paired you with Theodore Nott for Potions; you two balance each other out. Theo’s knack for improvisation complemented your methodical approach perfectly. But today, Professor Slughorn had other ideas.

"Today's lesson will require some collaboration," Slughorn announces, clapping his hands together. "I'll be mixing up the pairs for a bit of variety. Let's see… Mr. Nott, you'll be working with Miss Carmichael."

You freeze. Eloise Carmichael. You’re more than aware of her brief but intense history with Theo. They had a fling last year that ended as quickly as it began, but the memory lingers in your mind like an uninvited guest.

Theo nods, unaffected, as if the shift in partners is no big deal. Of course, to him, it probably isn’t. He walks over to Eloise, exchanging a few words before they settle into a comfortable rhythm. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but their familiarity is evident in the way they move around each other, seamless and fluid.

“Y/N, you’ll be with Mr. Diggory,” Slughorn's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you turn to see Cedric Diggory smiling at you warmly. Cedric is kind, intelligent, and charming—an ideal partner. Yet, as you make your way to the workstation next to Theo and Eloise, all you can think about is the flutter of irritation in your chest.

The task is straightforward: brew a Draught of Peace. As you and Cedric gather ingredients, you catch glimpses of Theo and Eloise out of the corner of your eye. She laughs at something he says, and you grip a jar of moonstone dust tighter than necessary.

“Everything okay?” Cedric asks, concern in his voice.

“Yeah, just… distracted,” you reply, forcing a smile.

You’ve never been one to get jealous. It’s not like you and Theo are even dating. But there’s a nagging feeling, a twist in your gut every time Eloise touches his arm or leans in too close. You want to look away, to focus on your own potion, but it’s like trying to ignore a splinter.

Theo looks up, catching your eye. For a moment, his brow furrows, and he seems almost puzzled by your expression. Then Eloise says something else, and he’s back to their conversation, leaving you feeling like a ghost in the room.

Cedric is diligent and polite, filling the silence with small talk about Quidditch and upcoming exams. You respond automatically, your mind elsewhere. The Draught of Peace is coming along nicely, the potion’s silvery vapor curling up in delicate tendrils, but your concentration wavers every time Theo chuckles or murmurs something to Eloise.

“Here, let me stir that,” Cedric offers, taking the ladle from your hands. You let him, too preoccupied to protest.

“Do you think Theo and Eloise ever felt awkward after their thing ended?” you blurt out suddenly. Cedric looks at you, surprised.

“Um, I’m not sure. I guess it depends on how it ended. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” you mumble, but Cedric’s perceptive enough to understand there’s more to it.

“Hey,” he says gently, “if it’s bothering you, maybe you should talk to him about it.”

You nod, knowing he’s right, but the idea of bringing it up with Theo feels daunting. What would you even say? That you’re feeling jealous over something that happened ages ago, something that shouldn’t even matter?

The class drags on, and by the time Professor Slughorn calls for the end of the session, you’ve barely held it together. Cedric smiles at you as you clean up, and you thank him for being a great partner, even if your heart wasn’t fully in it.

As students start to leave, you notice Theo lingering by the door, waiting. Eloise says goodbye, and he nods, then turns his attention to you.

“Walk with me?” he asks, and you nod, falling into step beside him.

The corridors are quieter now, the hustle of students fading as they head to their next classes or the Great Hall. Theo walks beside you in comfortable silence, but you can feel the weight of the unsaid words between you.

“You seemed off today,” he finally says, glancing sideways at you. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you reply too quickly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Y/N, come on. I know you better than that.”

You sigh, stopping in your tracks. Theo stops too, turning to face you, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“It’s stupid,” you begin, “but seeing you with Eloise… I didn’t like it.”

For a moment, Theo looks taken aback. Then, a slow understanding dawns on his face.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, not mocking, just genuinely surprised.

“Maybe,” you admit, crossing your arms defensively. “I don’t know. It’s just… weird seeing you with someone you’ve been with before.”

Theo steps closer, his gaze softening. “Y/N, Eloise and I… that was a long time ago. It didn’t mean anything. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, looking down. “But it still felt… uncomfortable.”

Theo reaches out, lifting your chin so you’re looking at him. “You have nothing to worry about. If I’m with anyone, it’s you. Not her.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. It’s the closest either of you has come to admitting there’s something more than just friendship between you.

“I guess I just needed to hear that,” you whisper.

Theo smiles, a rare, genuine smile that makes your chest feel lighter. “Anytime. And next time, just tell me. We’re in this together, right?”

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Right.”

He pulls you into a hug, and you relax into his arms, the tension melting away. As you walk together down the corridor, you feel a sense of clarity. Whatever you and Theo are becoming, it’s real, and it’s worth the occasional moments of uncertainty. And that’s enough.

[arliedraws]

Drabble - Sirius escapes Azkaban at the start of SS/PS and swims to the shack where Harry and the Dursleys are staying.

Just a small exercise I used as a writing warm-up :)

—

Harry had never received a letter in his life.

This was, to Uncle Vernon, the natural order of things. The post came each day, except on Sundays, of course, and over the years, they received plenty of bills, birthday cards for Dudley, and letters from Aunt Marge, but never a single envelope addressed to Harry.

To say that Uncle Vernon was upset that one finally did come to Harry at number four might have been putting it rather mildly, for in his compounding fury, Uncle Vernon had gone to extremes to find a place to which letters were undeliverable. The fury that Harry Potter had received one letter drove Uncle Vernon to hasten them out of Little Whinging and into the car where they spent several days hunting for a hiding place that would restore the natural order of the universe.

Perhaps they had finally found it. The shack was perched atop a small island just off the coast. The Dursleys and Harry had come by boat, braving the freezing waves to land upon the rocks. As Aunt Petunia urged Dudley into the dilapidated shack, Harry halted at the edge of the island, staring off into the distance where mist shrouded the horizon line.

“What’s the hold-up?” barked Uncle Vernon. “What are you looking at?”

“I think there’s another island out there,” said Harry.

Uncle Vernon shot him a nasty look. “There’s nothing out there.”

Harry shrugged as Uncle Vernon followed Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the shack. He could have sworn he saw an outline of something huge, like a tower, in the distance, but the fog was too thick now, and whatever it was had been swallowed up.

Eventually, the chill of the sea battered at his jumper until he was shivering, and Harry felt slightly damp as he resigned himself to joining the others in the shack. By the time he closed the door behind him, Aunt Petunia was already serving their rations which consisted of a packet of crisps and a banana for each of them.

The only boon of the filthy little house was that it seemed to thoroughly depress Dudley who slumped on the sofa and ate his crisps miserably, staring at the spot where he must have been pretending sat a television. Uncle Vernon was quite cheerful, however, pleased that he had brought his family to a place so far removed from society that the postman would never find Harry.

When night fell, Aunt Petunia made up the sofa for Dudley. Harry claimed a threadbare blanket before she could give them all to Dudley, and he found a spot on the floor where he thought the dirt was the softest. Awkwardly, Harry rested his head in the crook of his elbow, trying not to breathe in too deeply the blanket’s stench of seaweed.

The storm outside the shack rattled the wooden walls, and sea spray splattered the windows. This did not concern Uncle Vernon who bid Dudley and Harry goodnight with a slightly deranged smile before disappearing into the second room with Aunt Petunia. Harry, however, couldn’t help imagining a huge wave sweeping the house right into the sea and drowning them all.

Harry tried to settle into his nest on the floor, but he was too cold, the ground was too hard, and Dudley was snoring loudly enough to rival the crashing sea beyond the walls. Harry’s birthday was only a few hours away which might have been something to look forward to, but it seemed too sad to consider that he’d be turning eleven in a place like this. Well, he reasoned, was it any worse than his cupboard?

Harry turned over as lightning flashed through the windows. Dangerous thoughts were occurring to him. Life had never been particularly fair to Harry, which was something he’d come to accept, yet when he really stopped to think about it, Harry wished for a completely different one. Apparently he’d had a different one before because his parents died when he was a baby and left him to his mother’s sister. Uncle Vernon insisted that Harry’s parents were drunkards who died in a car crash, and while this wasn’t particularly pleasing to think about, Harry rather thought he’d prefer loving layabouts to the cold and hostile Dursleys.

Dudley’s stomach growled, startling Harry. Uncle Vernon had forced them all to suffer the depressing meal of crisps and bananas, and it was most certainly not enough for Harry; for Dudley, it must have been merely crumbs. It must not agreed with Dudley either because a foul stench filled the room, and Harry balked, rolling away and stuffing the blanket against his nose. The blanket, however, wasn’t any better. Unable to take it, Harry got up towards the window.

He was expecting to see waves breaking against the rocks, rising with the increasingly swelling storm. He expected to see the rain as it slapped the pane of glass, and perhaps even a jagged bolt of lightning splitting across the black sky. But as Harry looked out the window, he locked gazes with a pair of wide eyes.

At first, Harry thought he was dreaming. A ghastly, emaciated face was looking at him. The thing was horrible—it was a ghost with pale, sunken eyes, gaunt cheeks, and black, lank hair. Harry’s cry was stuck in his throat as the thing stared back. It seemed almost as surprised as Harry.

Then it was gone.

Heart pumping painfully against his ribs, Harry stumbled back from the window.

I’m dreaming, he thought. That wasn’t real. I didn’t see anything.

Harry whipped his gaze to the door. It didn’t have a lock—at least, the one that was on it was broken. He rushed towards it, suddenly terrified. If that thing came in, what would it do? Just because the Dursleys refused to believe that there were supernatural forces in the world didn’t mean they weren’t real and that they couldn’t eat them all.

For several minutes as thunder rumbled and the wind whipping the house, Harry pressed his back against the door. He was hours away from being eleven and he was skinny—a quick meal for a monster. He couldn’t let it get him.

Then, as Harry sat there, he began to feel stupid.

There were no such things as ghosts or specters or vampires. In his exhaustion and hunger, he must’ve invented the vision and convinced himself it was real; when he really thought about it, he was certain he knew he had imagined it.

Eventually, Harry slinked back to his spot on the floor and pulled the ragged blanket over his jeans and jumper, curling into the dirt. If he closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly, sleep would come for him and erase the nightmarish specter from his memory. It would be his birthday, and he would spend it in the middle of the sea.

He thought so, at least.

The door creaked. The crashing of the waves grew louder.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, though he stayed very still, his gaze locked on the empty fireplace. He heard the door close. His heart was pounding so hard now that he could hear it, and he tried to keep the harsh huffing of his breath quiet.

He heard nothing—nothing but the sound of the sea, the howling wind, Dudley’s stomach…

Then, a hand touched his shoulder.

Harry tried to shout; hand clapped over his mouth. A rasping voice was hushing him. Harry tried to shove the creature off of him, screaming into the wet palm. Panic overtook him. He scrabbled for a thin wrist and kicked in his silent, grunting struggle.

“Harry, Harry, please—stop—I’m—I won’t hurt you—” the hoarse voice was whispering. “Shh, please—”

Harry looked up at the creature in terror. Wet, matted hair hung over the specter’s brow, darkening his already shadowed eyes. They stared at each other. It wasn’t a ghost at all, but a man.

“What are you doing here?” whispered the intruder. His gaze flickered to Dudley who was still snoring.

The hand eased from Harry’s mouth. Maybe it would’ve been wisest to scream for help—to bring Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia scrambling into the room, but Harry couldn’t think. This thing—this man knew his name. The man was soaking wet and wearing strange clothing that hung in rags from his skeletal body. His hand stayed clenched on Harry’s shoulder.

“Who—who are you?” breathed Harry.

“Sirius,” he murmured. Harry frowned, not understanding. “That’s my name…” Again, the intruder looked back at Dudley to ensure he was still asleep.

Harry leaned away. The man smelled like seawater, perhaps even more so than the ragged blanket, and he was trembling from the chill. If Harry had not been so terrified, he might have offered the man the blanket, but as it was, he was convinced the intruder was going to do something terrible to him.

“Are you going to kill me?” said Harry so quietly, he was surprised the intruder heard him.

Sirius, so he called himself, shook his head. “No…but I…I shouldn’t have come in… It was only…I can’t…I can’t believe you’re here…” He stopped to cough which he smothered with the crook of his elbow, the veins protruding in his forehead as he tried to keep himself quiet. His eyes were red as they turned to the dilapidated shack, taking in the dirt floor and moldy sofa and the cracked window before they returned to Harry. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, his voice so hoarse, it was hardly more than a hiss of breath. “Are you…safe?”

“I’m fine,” lied Harry.

The intruder frowned. “Are you?”

“You—you should probably go, Mr.—er—Mr. Sirius—”

“Where are your aunt and uncle?”

“They’re just in there—” then Harry lowered the finger he was pointing as he realized what the intruder was asking. Another wave of horror paralyzed him. How did this Sirius person know about Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia?

“Shhh, it’s all right…” said Sirius who must have seen the panic on his face. His hand hovered as though readying it to slap it over Harry’s mouth again. “I’ll leave… I shouldn’t have… I only wanted to…” He swallowed. A bead of water dribbled down his nose as he tilted his face at the ragged blanket. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?”

It was the last question Harry expected.

“Er—I—there wasn’t anywhere else to—”

BOOM.

Harry jerked; Sirius’s hand gripped his shoulder painfully. They both stared at the door in bewilderment.

Fear shone in Sirius’s eyes as he turned to Harry, urgently whispering, “Harry, what I’m about to do—don’t tell anyone. Please—I beg you to keep my secret—”

Another boom! shook the shack.

“Secret?” said Harry.

Dudley was stirring behind them. “Where’s the cannon?” he said.

Sirius said nothing more—he couldn’t say more—because when Harry blinked, in his place was no longer a man but an enormous, jet black dog. The dog faced the door, hackles raised, growling softly as the pounding continued. Harry gaped, sputtering at the dog—

“Who’s there?” a voice roared.

Uncle Vernon had rushed into the room clutching a rifle, aiming it at the door. Aunt cowered behind him as he warned the intruder to stay away or he’d shoot, but either the newcomer did not hear or they did not care, because in the next moment, the door flew from its hinges, crashing to the floor as a gigantic man, the largest Harry had ever seen in his life, ducked through the doorway.

The dog shrank away—the dog that was really a man—slinking behind Harry. If he meant to hide, he was far too large to disappear behind Harry…

Uncle Vernon yelled. The giant, however, was unperturbed as he bent and put the door to rights, fitting it back into the frame. He turned to face them, his wild black beard and hair sopping wet and beady black eyes sweeping over the shack.

“Rough seas. Not easy getting’ here in a storm like this. Could yeh make some tea?”

[leydenkilgore]

about permashifting

part 2. of my about shifting series..

Permashifting is just saying you want to shift permanently and make your desired reality your original reality. I perceive it is as the same as respawning with just different ways of getting there. It isn’t any easier or harder than shifting, manifesting or getting into the void state. The complication comes from making it the end all be all of your world. Which is a little harsh but true. In daily life, we for the most part approach tasks without much thought or any excessive attention. However when it comes to shifting we tend to rationalize it by making methods, reasons, excuses and rules. It’s not you to blame, it’s just human nature to over complicate things.

While it may be hard to (especially if you tend to have anxiety and easily worry) thinking of it as just a regular part of life or your routine can do wonders. You don’t even have to affirm just in the back of your head associate shifting realities as a natural part of your day. You dream regularly and you do so without effort because we have come to expect it. Expect shifting just like you would dreaming. When you think of the end of the day, think of becoming aware of your desired reality without much effort. You can also affirm if you want to.

Personally, I wouldn’t shift permanently to somewhere I’ve never been because I wouldn’t know if I liked it or not. Of course you can always shift back to where you are from originally if you really want to. You don’t get stuck in a reality whether you shifted permanently or not. In general, no undesired situation is permanent or unable to fixed. So do what feels best.

I have been shifting fully for four years for long amounts of time, but have been trying to permashift for the same amount of time. Because I have just not been ready to leave this life behind permanently. Usually I decide to permashift on a specific day that has meaning to me: my birthday, my name day, a full moon or the northern lights. There is no benefit to this I just like it for plot reasons. I scripted that when I permashift I will see all my memories from my thirteen drs and then fall into a base of a waterfall kind of. (I do the later part often in my waiting room to enter different realities but it’s not really water. It’s more like phasing at least that is what Ryuk who is like some kind of otherworldly intelligent conscious in the body of a cat describes it. It feels like merging your soul, I guess.)

I live in upper coastal Northern California where we were able to see the Northern Lights without much interference. So I went to the beach not too far from me and walked there for a bit. I decided to shift and came back home. I did my usual method and woke up in sleep paralysis maybe an hour later. Then I opened my eyes and began to physically see my memories. I saw a variety of memories from all my drs. Until I felt myself being kind of pulled not physically but like my soul was being pulled from my body. It’s really hard to describe this feeling. After that I dont recall thinking too much because I’m shifting to live my life from beginning to end so I would be an infant. I just remember my memories sort of fading and I got concerned about my cat outside. So I quickly came back. But I was really about to permashift because I have never gone to my childhood in that reality. I’ve only done my later years there. I forgot about this until I was going over my script and just remembered this as an hallucination before bed.

Anyways…that’s all I have to say about permashifting. Feel free to ask me questions about anything shifting related and I’ll do my best to answer. But seriously stop reading this and go shift already!

[destiny-in-the-universe]

RC9GN Commentary + Thoughts

my current and ridiculous hyperfixation on RC9GN is dominating my entire life, oops- but basically, this is mostly me once again testing the waters of not only a potential fanfic with a reimagined/continued-fanon season three and beyond but before i start

Here’s my general commentary of the show!

For starters- Randy is so neurodivergent-coded? He has ADHD, and I feel if his actions in the canon are viewed from a more ND angle, a lot of his behavior makes so much more sense to be honest; he stims, he doesn’t exactly think before he acts sometimes (and it’s only later - once he’s truly thought about his own actions - that he finally realizes he could’ve messed up), he gets overstimulated, and on another thing- he definitely has displayed signs of not only rejection sensitivity dysphoria but he also looks for others’ approval - not in the people pleasing way, he wants to be noticed and he can’t exactly get that

The show can be mature- and it shows in certain moments. Howard‘s beef with the Nomicon is genuinely legitimate, and we see he hates and despises being alone - he’s not socially anxious, but he does seem to only have Randy as his friend; though could it also be tied with Howard just being so used to having him as company that not having him around just gets a little distressing? They were friends from literally three years old- maybe it’s the knowledge that Randy’s now faced with this life-threatening role?

Another thing! The whole thing with the First Ninja (part of the commentary and thoughts of this post) having lost his entire family at the hands of the Sorcerer? That has got to have developed some serious ptsd and survivor’s guilt- it could explain why he’s so strict and rational and attempts to be this mediating figure but also suddenly gives up and loses his temper (like- if his soul is in the nomicon, then has he had proper contact with people? He’d have been completely isolated-)

Going off on “Finja” (though i seriously need to give him a name-), his official introductory episode could’ve gone so much better? Like. I get it, why he seemingly gave up so quickly but also- I think he sees his younger self in Randy and that’s why he could be harder on him, but going back on the last point; “Finja” has gone through so much - even if it isn’t inherently canon - and goodness me, I wish we could’ve seen more of his character- and the idea he’s Randy’s ancestor? Hello?

Massive Commentary incoming!

The Norisu 9 is such an interesting concept- I want to know more, but for that I need to write it; who were they? They were a clan- could they possibly be brought back as other ninjas that fight alongside the Ninja? (AKA Randy) If that’s the case though, wouldn’t it have been mentioned beforehand? Then again- this is entirely fanon. Maybe it’s only in specific moments; like we all know there are eight other realms - apart from the Land of Shadows - that Randy would’ve had to face. Imagine just-

The Norisu 9 are carefully chosen, and that’s likely why they weren’t seen before? Maybe it was thought the bloodline vanished- or only show up when fighting against specific threats like, say, the Sorceress- but now I have to figure out who would be the rest of the Norisu 9? Off the top of my head, genuinely- Debbie should be one of them (a theme of dark purple? But seriously- I feel they all have a select set of powers) - i can’t fully explain my thoughts right now, but also Theresa? Like, they definitely have certain qualities to be ninjas- though that still leaves six more people-

Also like, I really want more on the tengu and the ninja? I have a lot more dedicated to the fanon season three and this is only one part of my thoughts but- i keep thinking about the one episode where tengu! Howard (in the time travel/season one finale episode) was hurt and it affected Randy; like this has so much potential? Like just imagine the angst that could create- or even if Howard was permanently linked to the tengu, and he developed powers and things went a little… south - there is going to be so much I’m going to explore with this tbh

I need to dedicate an entire nine post thesis purely dedicated to my attempts at interpreting the different realms that Randy would have had to face if the show wasn't suddenly cancelled, oh my god

Another thing- the Sorcerer had so much potential as a villain; it's basically what he could have been if the show wasn't posed so much as a lighthearted action-comedy, but this is also a topic for another day. The amount of brainrot I've been dealing with is so ridiculous, someone help

[maleyanderecafe]

Good day! I was wondering if your review on Restart Heart has changed after the new demo came out recently? If you haven't played it yet, I suggest trying it out and letting us know what you think of it.

After trying my hand at the updated demo, I can safely say that my personal opinion has changed quite a bit since the very first version. The MC seems a touch more like an insufferable prick now with how rude they are towards some characters, how "Mary Sue" they act in given situations, and how they overreact to certain events occurring around them. Their inner thoughts and rational thinking are nothing like mine as well, but that's more of a personal thing. While I'm aware it's currently still a demo and these events aren't considered "canon" by the dev, it isn't exactly doing a good job at persuading me to try out the finished version of the game once it comes out.

I do like that there are more than one "main" yandere now, however unfortunately none of the other characters aside from Ezra and Sammy really appeal to me. Each character seems very "stereotypical" and play into a very specific trope, but it's been like that since the first release so I'm not too bothered by it. I guess I was hoping for more developed and interesting characters in the update and got let down with the lack of improvement from the first version.

I'm also unsure how I feel about how overly "woke" the demo is trying to be? The overuse of Arabic phrases by Bess seems somewhat out of place and repetitive, so many characters are overtly trans or use their ethnicity as a base for their personality (especially seen on tumblr), the NSFW scenes [in the first version] feel like I was being babysat with the constant "consent check ins" and boundary implementations, and characters like Steph talk about their job [a pornstar] as though it's something to glorify or romanticize. The game's job is to make these characters appealing enough for us to pursue but I can't get over how forced/unnecessary their backstories and personalities feel. I'm transmasc myself but I'm put off by these constant reminders being shoved in my face at every turn, especially on the official tumblr page. I like that these sorts of things are being represented in a positive way (much less in a visual novel where it's so rare), but I don't like how constant and overplayed they are.

I will say that the writing has definitely improved in the new demo and it doesn't feel as overtly casual with the grammar and punctuation anymore (almost as if the narrator was texting me rather than talking to me). The characters have established connections with the MC now which I like, though I understand that this may not be everyone's cup of tea. The new CGs are nice too, however I won't comment on the updated art style since I personally prefer the scratchy anime style of games like TKATB, Mushroom Oasis, and even 14DWY [the first version]. I've always liked the music used and the GUI looks good, so I didn't mind not seeing much of an update for them in the new demo.

Overall, I have mixed feelings but I'm hopeful and optimistic that the finished version will be much better if the updated demo is anything to go by. I also hope there won't be a price tag on the finished product because as good as it is now, there is still so much that needs to be improved on to justify even a $5 label. These are my personal thoughts, though I'd love to hear yours as well.

It took me a while to replay the new demo and then find the older demos since it's no longer on the itchio page (There is still a link for the third day, but I had to watch epsylion's video on the fourth day, which excludes some routes). I admit that while I am generally aware of what is going on with various vns and their updates, I haven't had time to really go through and play most of them, so if there is a game that I have gone over before but it has updated, feel free to send me an ask.

Restart Heart seems to have an interesting conception, with the game going up to it's fourth day, before eventually being pulled back into a shorter demo that encapsulates the first day, likely to revamp and improve on the game as a whole. As such, I'm not sure if I've missed anything specifically as I'm not on the patreon . As a quick recap, the general plot of the first demo was that the MC, Sugar basically went on a huge party rager after finding out their ex fiance cheated on them and got their younger sister pregnant. As a result, the four days that we do spend with Sugar and the other characters are generally Sugar attempting to get back on their feet with the help of Ezra and the other characters, Bess, Blaire, Sammy, Chris and Steph along with sleeping with some of them if you so choose to. The new demo is a bit similar but only covers Sugar before finding out about the cheating, with them having a smaller interaction with the rest of the crew at the chocolate place they work at (namely that they almost got crushed by a bunch of staplers).

I think compared to the four day version of Restart Heart, I actually prefer this new demo's Sugar to the old one, though that's likely going to change once they find out about the cheating that's going on. While I understand that Sugar is going through a generally horrible situation of someone cheating on them, I also find their behavior kind of hard to deal with and not that much fun to play with. This is just my general gripe with a lot of yandere vns, not just Restart Heart in particular, where the MC tends to be very cynical and dislikes doing... well anything, which to me is a touch tedious and kind of annoying at times. I also feel like from the four day version, they feel a lot more bitter and angry (again due to the break up) but also coddled very heavily as well. Understandably it is nice to have someone who is able to care about you and try to make things feel better when everything feels like it's falling apart, but to me it still feels very infantalizing in some aspects, with every character seemingly trying to nurse Sugar back to feeling better. It's likely more of a me thing since I've always been the type of person to drag myself back up by my feet, rather than attempt to rely too much on other people. In the new demo, Sugar has yet to experience this (at least from what I can tell) so is generally more stable and less prickly. I don't think it's particularly Mary Sue like in the new demo, considering that I feel like if my friend almost got crushed by a bunch of staplers, we'd all run over there too and make sure that they're okay, though I can see where you're coming from since most of the characters are revolving around Sugar in that sort of way. It's hard to say what kind of characters the Restart Heart gang will be considering that it is still a demo, but considering it did have four days already out, I can see what you mean. We don't get to see too much into their lives (outside of Blaire, I think which probably has the most characterization out of Chris and of course Ezra). It would be nice for them to do other things as well like go out on dates or just hang out more one on one (like going to hang out at the library with Sammy, for instance) to get to know them a bit more.

Interesting take on it. I did notice that Bess uses a lot of Arabic phrases, kind of like someone who is trying to learn the language and is attempting to use it in their every day life so that they can remember it. I don't think that specifically was the intention, but it did come off like that for me. I'm not really sure what you mean by "overtly trans or use their ethnicity as a base for their personality", do you mean as more of like that's their main personality trait? A very minor confusion I have with the game is the use of pronouns that are attached onto the characters. That in itself isn't really a problem but it does seem a touch redundant because there is a character bio for all of the characters that already has the pronouns on it. Not anything huge, but it is a strange decision to make. The checkins for nsfw content is generally a thing that happens in a lot of r18 yandere vns, but I do get that it does feel very babysitting like, especially if it's something that happens after the initial agreement.

I do agree that the writing has improved a lot more, with the characters written in a more lifelike manner and feels more like they have known Sugar for a while. I also agree that it's nice that they have more stronger connections to Sugar this time around. I think the music is good, though I do wish that they would change it up more since the same soundtrack repeated does make it a bit tiring (though this is likely just a demo thing). Lilith did a good job of coding everything as expected, especially with the pronoun, name, partner, nickname choices in the very beginning. There is a lot of variation for people who want to be called a specific way during the NSFW parts (though admittedly I don't really like most of them since well, I prefer submissive yanderes). They are doing a lot of projects right now, so it is hard to say when the full version will come out and what the quality will be right now. Hopefully it will come out well though, and there will be more yandere content that I can shift through.

[dreamsy990]

some of the less nice thoughts about being aroace

extras below the cut

sketch

closeups on my favorite panels

bonus: adios